


Mince Pies

by orphan_account



Series: Christmas [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Advent Calendar, Castiel in the Bunker, Christmas, Fluff and Smut, Food, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Human Castiel, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In true Christmas fashion, Dean cures his boredom by baking a batch of mince pies, only to discover that the eons-old Castiel has never tried them. However, the ex-angel has something else on his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mince Pies

The bunker is fairly quiet today, Dean notes. Sam is out on his weekly grocery shopping and won’t be back for a few hours and Castiel is burying himself in piles and piles of research. He found some old Enochian books in the storage rooms downstairs a while back and since then, he spends an awful lot of time down there, drinking it all in. He translates it for them, scribbling down everything and Dean is sure it’s some attempt to feel useful since losing his grace, and partly to stop him from forgetting how to read and speak Enochian. Dean knows the ex-angel has been struggling with turning human; he’s probably been going through a shitstorm of emotions he didn’t even know existed so he leaves him to translate, if it helps. Besides, it might come in handy one day. He’s tried taking Cas on hunts or train him up to be a proper hunter (they even spent an entire day in the firing range trying to get Cas’ skills on point) but, regardless, he thinks that Cas still feels kinda incompetent compared to the brothers.

There isn’t really much Dean can do about that except try and prove him otherwise.

To fill the boredom and stillness of the bunker, Dean decides he’s going to bake. He doesn’t do it often but when he’s alone, he likes to practise his culinary skills. Especially since they have their own kitchen now. He grabs Sam’s iPad and hopes his little brother won’t mind him borrowing it since it isn’t to watch porn (for once) and searches a recipe. It is Christmas, after all.

After his success in making gingerbread yesterday and the fact that the library is decorated better than Santa’s freaking Groto, Dean has been in a festive spirit, despite Sam’s protests that they are ‘too old for Christmas’. What the hell does he know? You are _never_ too old for Christmas. With that, he sets the iPad down and works on making mince pies.

***

It’s over an hour later that the smell of mince pies and cinnamon and _Christmas_ fills the air, drifting out from the kitchen and into the library of the bunker, warm and inviting. Dean takes the tray out of the oven, letting them settle on the side and grinning at his work. Sammy is always teasing him for how much pride he’s started to take on his cooking but he doesn’t care. It’s not like cooking is the gayest thing he does in his spare time.

Almost as if on cue, Castiel’s voice is heard from the library and Dean smiles. He knew the smell of pie would lore Cas out. He’s developed quite a taste for the dish too.

“Dean? What is that? It smells amazing…”

As his sentence comes to a close, he steps into the kitchen and hums his approval once his eyes land on the food. Dean would laugh, tease him about _always_ wanting to eat since he became human but he can’t because he’s not much better himself.

“Mince pies. Homemade.” He grins, proudly. “I know, I know. I’m awesome, right?”

Dean turns to look at his… well, whatever he is. At Cas. He raises an eyebrow at the blank expression on Cas’ face, the tilt of his head and the narrowing of his eyes. The son of a bitch doesn’t know what mince pies are.

“You don’t… Shit, okay, come here. S’not normal for a guy to be in his….” He pauses and frowns. “…Millions… and to never have eaten a mince pie.”

When the ex-angel obeys and draws near, Dean loops his arms around Cas’ waist and kisses him softly, picking him up and sitting him on the counter (with a little help from Cas – he’s not that strong).

Cas reaches for one of the mince pies but Dean bats his hand away with a smile on his lips, shaking his head.

“Nope, sorry, Cas. We’re doing this my way. Close your eyes.”

Castiel doesn’t need much convincing and he lets his eyes close, lashes fanning out across his cheeks. Dean takes a moment to appreciate how freaking awesome Cas looks but he pushes the thought away. Now isn’t the time. He stands between Cas’ open legs and reaches for one of the mince pies, grinning broadly as he lifts it to the ex-angel’s lips. In response, he opens his mouth and lets Dean feed him.

The hums and appreciative moans that fall from Castiel’s lips aren’t unnoticed by Dean and on one hand, he’s glad that Cas likes his cooking. On the other, his pants are a little tighter. Fuck. To make matters worse, Castiel proceeds to lick and suck on the tips of Dean’s fingers when he’s finished, trying to get every last ounce of the pie from him.

Dean feeds Cas two more pies before he decides the rest can wait. Half because he doesn’t want Castiel to get sick, and half because he doesn’t think he can stand anymore of Cas kitten-licking his fingers as he looks up with those sinfully blue eyes.

With that, he surges forward and presses their lips together, carding his fingers through Castiel’s hair. The blue-eyed man parts his lips, melting into the kiss and Dean wastes no time in gliding his tongue across Cas’ lips, licking his way into his mouth.

Their tongues meet and Dean hums appreciatively, the taste of pie and cinnamon dancing on his taste buds mixed with Cas’ own taste is a little too much and he presses forward, their hips meeting as Dean grinds against him. He feels Castiel’s growing erection press against him and laughs into their kiss. Someone was eager today.

He unfastens Castiel’s jeans (he’s finally forced Cas to wear something other than that damn trenchcoat crap) and slides his palm inside, rubbing it against the hard outline of Cas’ cock. The angel moans in response, bucking into Dean’s hand. The noises that Castiel makes run right through him, spreading more warmth to his crotch.

He tugs down Castiel’s boxers a little, enough to free his hard length from its confines and wraps his callous fingers around it. It’s thick and hot and heavy in Dean’s hand and he _loves_ it. He never thought he would, never considered himself to be remotely gay before he started to feel something for Cas. But now, he loves fucking and touching and kissing Castiel. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He feels how his cock gets harder in his hand and so he starts moving, stroking him slowly at first, twisting his hand to catch some of the precome with his thumb. When the pads of his fingers glide over the slit, Castiel’s hips stutter and he leans forward, resting his forehead on Dean’s shoulder. The hunter speeds up, removing his hand to spit into his palm so that Cas’ cock slides more easily into the tight channel of his fingers.

He grunts a little, listening to the moans and gasps that fall from Castiel’s lips, partnered by a liturgy of praise, telling Dean how _good_ it feels, how much he loves it. He lets his other hand trail behind, playing with Castiel’s balls a little, tugging on them and he knows the ex-angel won’t last. Sometimes, they can fuck and play for hours, all slow thrusts, teasing and kissing and touching. Sometimes, they don’t. Sometimes, it’s quick and rough and dirty, both of them chasing release. Today is going to be one of those days.

“Dean… Fuck, Dean…” The ex-angel pants, wordlessly begging and Dean shivers. He loves it when Castiel swears; there’s something so filthily hot about an angel of the Lord uttering something so debauched.

“Want you to come, angel….” Dean purrs in Castiel’s ear, darting his tongue out to swipe at Castiel’s earlobe, eliciting a groan. “Want you to come all over my hand for me. Can you do that…? Cas…?”

“Yes…” Castiel breathes out but it comes out more like a moan. He presses hot and wet kisses against Dean’s neck, letting out tiny whimpers. His words are broken and hoarse, strained by how close he is to release. “Dean, I’m….”

“Come.” Dean murmurs against Castiel’s ear and it’s all he needs. Cas shakes and trembles, moaning relentlessly and helplessly into Dean’s skin as he comes, painting the hunter’s fingers and jeans with white. He keeps stroking, riding Cas through his orgasm, moaning needily.

Now he’s really horny.

Castiel pulls back, panting and blushing. He smiles at Dean and their gazes meet, green meeting hazy blue, drowned in lust. Their lips meet again and they kiss, slowly and languidly, gliding their tongues over one another’s. The tastes dance on his tongue again and he smiles into the kiss, breathing out a moan.

As if reading his thoughts, Castiel breaks the kiss and pulls up his boxers, hopping off the counter. He takes Dean’s hand and starts walking out, heading towards the bedroom. He pulls Dean close and leans in, whispering softly.

“I hung mistletoe on our headboard... It’s Christmas tradition, right?” He presses their lips together and murmurs against them. “I think you should fuck me now.”

Dean doesn’t need to be asked twice.


End file.
